


Groove

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor can’t dance.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Groove

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s supposed to be a sign of _progress_ , of true integration and broken barriers that Connor’s invited to the office holiday party, but Hank knows the real reason Jeffrey suggested bringing him along: the others wanted to see if spiked eggnog could make an android dance. Technically, it can’t. The alcohol has no effect on Connor’s systems. In general, it’s not recommended that androids eat or drink _at all_ , but Connor’s model can do so for the sake of social interaction—it might come in handy on an undercover mission. Connor takes one look at Hank, Hank grunts, “Just drink it already,” and Connor obediently swallows down the entire mug in one go. Hank knows he’s not the only person to stare at Connor’s bobbing Adam’s apple. He’s definitely not the only one that watches Connor’s pink tongue lap away all remnants of the thick liquid after, tracing the length of his plush lips. There’s a twinkle in Connor’s eyes when he looks back at Hank, but it has nothing to do with the custom seasonal drink pooling in his stomach cavity.

Connor can’t be enticed to dance. But he can be _told_ to dance. He ignores Reed when he’s ordered to ‘entertain the troops’, but when Tina pulls Connor out into the center of the rented-out pub, Connor goes. She laughs when he automatically pulls a pose for waltzing. Hank watches from his seat, peering over his mug of not-strong-enough beer, while she guides him through proper _grinding_. If Connor were human, Hank would think him downright uncomfortable.

But Connor’s a piece of plastic that Hank has to stop projecting on. He’s just inexperienced. It translates as _awkward_. He keeps throwing glances at Hank instead of his dancing partner, and when Reed comes to give Tina a hard time about partnering with Connor, she visibly deems Connor not worth the argument and wanders over to Chris instead. There’s a split second where Hank thinks Reed’s going to take her place, and it tightens his fists—he prepares himself to march over and _force_ Reed away. But instead, Reed scowls and keeps his distance, trying too hard to pretend he’s not as wildly attracted to Connor as everyone else in the precinct probably is. Hank refuses to take the blame himself. It’s not that he’s got a weakness for Connor’s cute smile and Connor’s goofy voice—it’s that CyberLife made their detectives better than their Tracis, and everyone else is just better at controlling their urges than Hank is. 

Connor tries his best to mimic Tina’s bump and grind style on his own. If he were doing it right, he’d have the whole bar swooning. But he’s not. He’s twitching like a lunatic, limbs jabbing out in random directions, hips practically dislocating in their effort to match the music. In Hank’s peripherals, he can see Jeffrey holding his stomach with laughter. Hank’s not sure why he came at all. 

Maybe part of him wanted to show off how much progress Connor’s made—how well he could integrate with them, how much he _deserved_ to be invited out with the rest of them. Obviously, that was a mistake. Then Connor pulls out a move from the disco era that some dumbass coder must’ve programmed in for a joke, and Hank’s too embarrassed to stand it. He pushes out of his seat and stumbles over. 

Connor instantly drifts towards him. Hank grabs on, not for his own support but Connor’s. He grips both of Connor’s hips and moves them how they’re _supposed_ to go, how the droning club beat dictates. It’s far from Hank’s taste in music, but watching Connor rigidly flop around makes it worse. Connor tilts over Hank’s shoulder to call over the music, “What are you doing, Lieutenant?”

“Showing you how to dance, you idiot,” Hank growls. 

Connor lets out a little, “Ah,” and melts into Hank’s grip. He lets Hank move him in more fluid circles, and he continues that swaying when Hank’s hands fall away. Connor’s hands drift to Hank’s shoulders, but Hank grabs those too and pushes them back. Connor tries touching Hank’s chest instead, and Hank begrudgingly allows that, because it’s too hard to remove Connor from him completely. 

Matching the beat a little better, Connor watches both their feet. He tries to follow Hank’s shuffle. Hank’s far from the best dancer—he feels like an old fool. But he’s better than whatever Connor was doing. He can practically see Connor memorizing the pattern. Then Connor abruptly looks up and darts in, brushing his lips over Hank’s. Hank doesn’t have time to wrench away. 

He does pull back sooner than he’d like. Knowing Connor will hear him despite the booming noise around them, he hisses, “What’re you doing?”

Connor still has to raise his voice—blushing hot, Hank steps closer again so he won’t have to. “I was under the impression you were flirting.”

“In front of the whole damn police force? Like hell I was! I was just trying to show you how to dance like a normal human being.” As soon as it’s come out of his mouth, he realizes his mistake. “Okay, I know you’re not a—”

“Are you ashamed to be kissed by an android in public, Lieutenant?”

Hank can feel his blush getting worse. He scowls at Connor for even suggesting that. Except maybe he is. But only because he’s ashamed of all of it—of having a boyfriend half his age and way out of his league. If anyone saw that kiss, which they probably did, they’ll never let him live it down. If Reed catches wind, he’ll ruin Hank’s life even worse than usual, even though they all know Reed’s been eyeing Connor up like a cat in heat since Connor first came to the station.

Hank lies through his teeth, “The only thing I’m ashamed of is your awful dancing.”

Connor hums that sort of agreement where it’s clear he knows Hank’s lying, but he’s going to let Hank think otherwise anyway. He reaches out and loops his arms around Hank’s shoulders again, drawing them closer together and making it easier to sway together. It occurs to Hank, like it so often does, how incredibly _warm_ Connor’s body is—the pub already feels overheated, but grinding with Connor sets him on fire. 

Hank mutters, “Shut up,” and keeps dancing.


End file.
